Sherlock as a ForceSensitive Time Lord Wizard
by Ginger-Holmes-Jones
Summary: Imagine, in a world without Star Wars, Harry Potter or Doctor Who; there is a Consulting Detective beyond comprehension. A Force-Sensitive Time Lord Wizard by the name of Sherlock Holmes, accompanied by his best friend and companion Doctor John Watson. What about the Dark Side? Is there another Time Lord Alive? Sherlock Holmes was destined for greatness, now he must find out how.
1. The Game's Afoot

Greetings :D Hope you enjoy this, it was written on a prompt from alsoknownasiris. I plan to write more chapters, I know this one is a little dull but there has been no adventure yet! Just thought it best to get the story set up a bit first. Don't worry, more characters and details will be coming into this later on. Really look forward to hearing from you :)

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, Doctor Who, Star Wars or Harry Potter. **

Wasn't really sure what to rate this so be warned, there may be violence in the later chapters (Egad!).

**Chapter 1 - **Wherein Joh discovers some very interesting facts, Sherlock ruins his favourite coat :'( and we realise that there is much more to the Detective then it first appears.

* * *

If you challenged Doctor John H. Watson to describe his flatmate (Sherlock S. Holmes) he'd have a rough idea of what to say: Astoundingly intelligent, highly aggravating, arrogant, intriguing, utterly out of this world but most importantly, his best friend in the universe. What he could not tell you, however, would be that his companion was a"Force-Sensitive Time Lord Wizard". For a start, you'd call him mad. Secondly, this combination of completely nonsensical and barely comprehendible skills seems entirely impossible. That's what John liked about Sherlock, he was _entirely impossible_. This did make the good Doctor wonder whether he was in his right mind, but even if he wished this situation were fake, it was as real as anything and it was his life. So what if inside that enigmatic man's head was a galaxy of wonder? It was no big deal. As for that trench coat he flutters about in, is it really important that it is concealing a Lightsaber, a Sonic Screwdriver (he had offered John a Sonic Lipstick, much to his distaste) and a wand made of holly with a phoenix feather at its core? Not to John it didn't. How Sherlock came by these items had been an interesting story that Sherlock entrusted in John after three years of friendship, not that John hadn't already noticed the unearthliness of his friend.

He had seen the Sonic Screwdriver appear on occasion, at a crime scene, to open a locked door or something similar. The air would suddenly be pierced with a shrieking sound and John would turn to see that the Detective would be brandishing that remarkable tool, with its end glowing brightly, before quickly putting it back into his pocket. John put this down to Sherlock's intellect having invented something useful for once, as opposed to those stupid experiments he stores in the fridge where John should be storing extra jam. The Lightsaber was ever more phenomenal, but something much harder to explain. They had been at dock on a case, and one of the old wooden doors had become stuck. John, having decided that it was pointless even attempting to try to break it down, had started to slowly saunter off to search for another entryway. Sherlock however began babbling incessantly (as he often does on "three-patch-problems") about wood absorbing the ocean moisture and expanding until it can no longer be opened. He then started to mutter to himself about how his Sonic had no effect on the damn blasted wood, so obviously his most reasonable course of action was to whip his Lightsaber out of his coat, unleash it with a mighty "pshfwwwuum" sound and splinter the door down the middle. John was awestruck, Sherlock simply smiled at him and continued through the destroyed door. Neither of them mentioned it again. The wand only came out on rare occasions, very rare indeed, John had only seen it once. Sherlock explained that it is because on a planet where no other entity has the same power that the wand can wield, he must restrict it's usage for what damage it could do to the boundaries of universes... or something, John hadn't been listening as Sherlock had started ranting about wibbly wobbly spacey wacey nonsense.

The day Sherlock told John about himself had been one of life changing magnitude.

* * *

Sherlock wasn't home on time. Again. I glanced at the clock in the corner of my laptop screen, 12:47AM. I've been waiting at least twelve hours for that man to arrive home, I don't know why I bother, he doesn't even acknowledge my existence when he comes in anyway. We seemed to function on a basis where he tells me nothing, and most of the things I know about him are an educated guess or something I pick up from his body language. He didn't even tell me where he was going today; he just threw his coat and scarf on, shouted something about Lestrade and off he went. That was eleven o'clock this morning, _yesterday _morning I should say. I accept this from Sherlock though, I just do, I understand that's how he works. I understand that to expect anything more from him was unreasonable. I sighed. Unreasonable? Was it really? To expect my best friend to not tell me anything? It's hard to come to terms with that sometimes, especially at times like these where I've wasted my whole day for him. Sherlock just was not _ordinary_. So how could I expect ordinary things from him? I sighed again. I don't care if he's different, I live with him, I work with him, I love him for God's sake (not that I'd admit that to him, and only as a friend of course, we are NOT a couple) and he still won't explain anything to me. It's almost as if he doe-

It was at this point that my flatmate burst through the door, I stared incredulously at him for a moment, trying to take in the scene. His clothes were shredded and burnt slightly, his (admittedly kind of small) eyes were wide open and frantic looking, with his black locks sticking up at all angles and uncovering that little lightning bolt scar on his head. In one hand he clutched that glowing stick I'd seen him use to smash a door in one time, in the other his buzzing screwdriver. The aroma of burnt flesh wafted in with him. I stared some more.

Sherlock paused when he saw my expression. "...What?" He asked before kicking the door shut behind him and turning off the glowing stick.

"You... erm," I stuttered "you're late." I didn't know what else to say.

He glanced at the clock. "So I am, sorry, there were a few important things I had to take care of." Sherlock threw his tattered coat and scarf over the back of a chair with a sad look.

"Why... why..." My hand loosely indicated to his appearance. "Why?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It's not important John. I'm going to have a shower then go to bed. Goodnight." He started off for his bathroom.

"Whoa!" Seemed to be the only noise I could make, Sherlock turned to look at me, his eyebrow raised.

"No Sherlock, I don't think so... no." I stared at his attire once more and the equipment in his grasp. "Going to tell me what you were doing? What the sodding hell those things are?"

Sherlock seemed to fidget slightly. "You've seen them before."

I nodded. "I didn't want to... pry, I suppose. It's your business." Sherlock turned again to leave at this. "Whoa!" I cried again as he did so.

Again, he turned back around with the expression of a stroppy teenager. "What?"

I glared at him. "You know very well what! You can't just traipse in at this time, looking like that, holding those, and not tell me anything Sherlock."

"Does it matter?" He sighed, wearily. "Look, I'm tired. Just leave it." Then he walked off and didn't turn back.

I blinked a few times before fully registering him palming me off. "It matters if you want me to continue living here!" I didn't know where that threat came from, but I knew that I meant it.

At this his head popped back around the door. "...Seriously?"

"Seriously." I seethed.

Sherlock still looked reluctant but he came back into the living room. "Please John, I don't want you to move out but..." He sighed and growled at the same time and I couldn't help but be slightly amused. "It's not that I don't trust you either, I just think this might be something you'd be better off not knowing. You won't believe me."

Since he had re-entered the living room my Doctor urges had gone into over drive, and as he had been speaking I couldn't help but scan him for injuries. "Try me." I said before going over to my friend who was now slumped in his armchair.

"You're going to regret asking me, John." He watched me begin to inspect the various cuts and bruises that lined his face and arms.

"The curiosity was killing me anyway. Go ahead." I said before leaving briefly to get my medical kit, then returning and beginning to tend to his injuries.

Sherlock exhaled slowly. "I was born into a world of fire." He began, getting a raised eyebrow from me. "Let me finish." He warned, I continued working silently. "I was born into a world destined to die, it was originally beautiful. The sky was a bright orange, with a citadel enclosed in a mighty glass dome, shining under the twin suns. Beyond that the mountains go on forever, slopes of deep red grass, capped with snow." He paused for breath and I kept my disbelieving looks to myself.

"That was all destroyed when The Time War came." His eyes had glazed over to a steely shade of pale blue, I could sense the pain behind them, but not quite understand it. "The Last Great Time War pitted the Time Lords themselves against the Daleks of Skaro. My planet was lost, along with my species." Hold on, his _planet_? I needed to ask questions but remembered what he had said, and managed to contain them. "I survived though, last of my kind. Well, I believed I was at least, I am still uncertain. There may be one other left, although it also likely that he has also died, he's... misguided. Lost. Uncertain of his purpose and unwilling to live life to its fullest with humans." Sherlock sighed. "There are legends about me you know, they call me _The Boy who Lived_." At this he sniggered. "The reason that I lived, dear John, is because somehow an excess of power was bestowed within me. The scar is the only remaining evidence." He traced his finger over his scar on his head as he spoke. "Knowing this, but growing up with a human family on Earth has obviously impacted my life. I'm very fond of humans, and protect them to the fullest of my ability." He smiled down at me as I listened intently and continued rubbing antiseptic ointment into his cuts. "There's a Dark Side, somewhere out there in the universe, plotting the downfall of planets such as this. It's one of the reasons I stay mainly here instead of leaving. Also because I wouldn't dream of leaving my army Doctor behind." I laughed, slightly nervously and still very confused. He sniffed and took on a very casual tone. "Then again I could take you with me, see the whole of time and space together. I have a Time Machine, the TARDIS. Stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. It's bigger on the inside than it is on the outside." He seemed to be watching my expressions intently as I finished treating him and returned to my chair on the opposite side of the room. We were both silent for a few minutes.

"If you have a time machine why are you always late?" I asked.

Sherlock laughed and his expression reflected that of shock, as it very rarely does. "That's all you have to say? After everything I just told you? John, I'm an alien. I'm from a planet called Gallifrey. I have two hearts. There is a legend that destines me for greatness, calling me a Jedi Knight, a Time Lord, a... Wizard. It sounds ludicrous."

"To say the least." I chimed in.

"To say the least." He agreed. "It's all true though. Every last word of it. I would _never_ lie to you." At this he locked eyes with mine, holding my gaze.

"I know you wouldn't." I uttered.

"So... do you believe me?" He pressed his fingertips together.

I knew that I believed him, I knew he wasn't insane and he wasn't lying to me, he was Sherlock. Unexplainable, impossible Sherlock. "I do."

Sherlock seemed to be waiting for me to elaborate, and when I never did he just queried "Anything you want to ask?"

I shook my head. "I'm still waiting for it all to sink in if I'm honest."

Sherlock laughed. "Of course." He got up, presumably to go and shower at last, but before he left he looked at me. A strange look I'd never seen him use before. Luckily I was accustomed to Sherlock's body language and expressions, and to me that look seemed to say "I feel this is the start of a beautiful adventure." I smiled back at him cautiously. In consideration he may have just given me that look because I had something on my face, although I'm assuming it was not the latter.

* * *

That was six months ago. By now, John knew his best friend better than ever, as well as the universe he lived in. It was amazing, exciting, vast, adventurous. More than anything though, it was spine-chillingly terrifying.


	2. The Dinner Table is no Place for Gore!

Hello again :) This is the second installment of the weird cross-over, courtesy of the intriguing prompt from alsoknownasiris (thanks for the idea :D).

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. *weeps***

**Chapter 2** -Wherein Sherlock doesn't like board games when he is bored, John and Sherlock get invited to dinner on a blue world, there is some STAR WARS :D and a lady named after a packet of sweets. (Also some other cool stuff but I'm not ruining the plot for you, that'd make me the worst writer ever or something).

* * *

A lot had changed since John's discovery of his friend's origin. By now, John Watson was use to Sherlock's odd nature. In fact on multiple occasions he had referred to Sherlock as a "Space Oddity", but the reference was wasted on the culturally oblivious Detective. As promised, though, Sherlock had indeed revealed his time machine. When they had left one afternoon to go and see it (Sherlock had said he couldn't store it in the flat) John had been expecting them to go to some storage warehouse somewhere, he was expecting something similar to the DeLorean, he couldn't have been more wrong. They had stopped at a secluded street corner a few blocks away as Sherlock stepped into what had looked like a phone box at first, after standing outside it for about five minutes Jon finally decided to open the door and see what was keeping Sherlock; it was not a phone box. It wasn't even a Police Box. It was HUGE. Sherlock had begun rambling on about the swimming pool and other things within it but John was too stunned to react. The TARDIS was amazing, John loved it, Sherlock hadn't taken him on many trips in it though yet. Only a few simple ones to show John that it did actually work and to explain the principles of it. Of course to John it was mind blowing but Sherlock seemed rather bored by the whole affair. He was very eager to convince Sherlock to take him somewhere more interesting but to no avail.

We hadn't had a case in a while, and Sherlock was getting restless. The wall had suffered great amounts of damage and Mrs Hudson was at the end of her tether, and she didn't have to live with him.

"Jaaaaaaaawn." Sherlock whined at me.

"Whaaaaat?" I whined back, despite already knowing what he was going to say.

Sherlock glowered at me. "I'm bored." He pouted.

"Find something to do then, I'm busy." I said back to him before continuing to update my blog.

Sherlock's head lolled backwards. "Blogging doesn't count as something important. Entertain me."

All I could do in response was sigh and carry on typing. Sherlock flopped dramatically onto the sofa, a few seconds later he did it again but on to his side, then back on to his front a few more seconds later. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at how childish he was being. I mean, he had told me that he was actually a good couple of hundred years old, I'm pretty sure that with centuries to mature you should act a bit more grown up then how he is at this moment. Sherlock seemed to be following what I was thinking and blurted out,

"Even time travelling aliens get bored!" but it didn't make me any more compelled to try and entertain him. I finally finished updating my blog entry, posted it, and then shut down my laptop; Sherlock watched me expectantly.

"Okay, now I'm not busy. What would you like to do?"

"I don't know, do I? If I did I'd hardly be asking you." He snapped back. He often got tetchy when that great mind of his wasn't at work.

I smiled. "We could play Cluedo if you want."

"I hate Cluedo, it doesn't make sense, the solutions remind me of something Anderson would slap together." Sherlock stated.

I laughed at him. "Okay, not Cluedo" I looked around for inspiration. "Err.. ." Suddenly I was hit with an idea. "You couldfinally take me somewhere fun in the TARDIS." I suggested.

Sherlock's eyes suddenly lit up and I could practically see the cogs turning inside of his head. "I do, as it happens, have something we could do John." At this he shot up and ran into his bedroom, just before he entered I heard him call out "Dress for dinner!" and then he slammed his door shut.

* * *

Half an hour later and we were once again back in the TARDIS, both of us fully clothed in bets suits.

"Where are we going?" I questioned him.

"It's a surprise." His eyes twinkled as he flicked levers and pressed buttons on the console.

I clung to the railing as the TARDIS made the wheezing noise that it did and jittered about. "Why did it mean that I have to wear a suit? I hate suits. I'd rather be in my jumper."

Sherlock laughed. "I received an invitation to this and everything, I really think you're going to enjoy it."

The TARDIS eventually stopped throwing me about everywhere as we arrived, Sherlock ran over to the doors and dashed out, so I gathered my balance back as quickly as possible and ran after him. Outside the TARDIS I saw that we had landed on a beautiful blue planet, covered in curious swirl patterns on the floor. The sky was a similar shade of blue which only created a sickening lack of contrast, where it was hard to tell where the horizon ended and the sky began. I assumed it was night here from the deep blues and cool air. In front of us was what looked very similar to a mansion, only it had multiple turrets that appeared to be placed in random spots surrounding the house. There was no other building in site. As I was standing there, taking in the surroundings, Sherlock had already skipped off up to the door and knocked. Again I ran to catch up with him.

"Sherlock! Would you please stop ru-" I stopped talking as a tall figure opened the door. He was also blue, to begin with, but he did have two arms and two legs. His singular head was also something to be glad of. In fact, he was a very human looking alien. He did, however, have thick black hair that I could see trailed down onto the floor behind him. I tried not to stare. The man looked at us both with his big black eyes and I realised that he had no pupils... or all of his eye was pupil.

"Invitation." He demanded more than asked.

Sherlock flashed a ticket that he had pulled out of his pocket along with the smile he did when he was trying to win people over. The man seemed satisfied and stepped aside.

"Your host shall be with you shortly. Please wait with the other guests in the main room."

We entered and began walking down the corridor, as soon as the blue man was out of earshot Sherlock whispered. "I actually didn't have to use the psychic paper this time either." He laughed and glanced behind us at the door man, who was standing as still as a statue by the entryway. "So, what do you think? Pleasant, isn't it?"

"It's very... blue?" I shrugged.

Sherlock looked as if he was about to make some sarcastic comment about me stating the obvious, but stopped himself as we entered what I presumed was the main room. There were only a few people present and I wondered whether or not there would be more arriving. One, who stood by the window, looked like an overgrown lizard. He had no ears and his eyes were on stalks, his skin was a sandy green colour. I didn't even know that it was a 'he', it just didn't look much like a woman to me. He was talking to a well built man, who looked positively human, in fact there was nothing significant about him aside from the fact that his face looked a bit scarred. The only creature in the room that I'd class as a woman seemed to be posing on the mantle, sipping a cloudy liquid from a glass in her hand. She looked slightly out of place where she was, she was bald for the most part, but had a shocking jet of orangey cables on the top of her head pulled into some kind of pony-tail. Her skin was strikingly chalky-white and her eyes were dark. She had opted for more typically manly attire and was in black suit trousers, black heavy boots, a plain white blouse and waist coat. Upon entering the room all conversations had halted, and the three entities in the room turned to look at us. I fidgeted. Sherlock seemed to like the attention and take a confident stride into the room. The pale woman looked us both up and down before walking over, she stuck her hand out to me.

"Aurra Sing." She said, her voice surprisingly soft. I was slightly stunned and was hesitant in reacting. After a slight delay I took her hand and shook it.

"Dr. John Watson." She had a firm grasp and I couldn't help but be reminded of how shaking friends with soldiers in my quadrant felt.

Sherlock offered his hand to the woman. "Sherlock Holmes."

She shook his hand too and nodded to him. By this point the other two people in the room had joined us. The man, I learnt, was called Dengar. The lizard man was called Zahn. When I shook Zahn's hand it felt very similar to when stroking a snake. Just as we were finishing the pleasantries our host, or rather hostess, joined us. Unlike her butler, she was a pale shade of lilac. She was dressed in what looked like a silver sari, and she too had black hair that had grown to floor length.

"Welcome to my home." she said as she floated down the stairs and looked at us all. "I see there's a new face," The purple lady smiled at me. "and knowing Mr Holmes he won't have told you who I am." She laughed delicately and walked over to me, offering her hand. "Parma Violet." I kissed the back of her hand as I introduced myself, but something was niggling at the back of my mind, as if I was missing something.

"Now we are all introduced, please be seated for dinner, it shall be served shortly." She giggled and drifted into a large dining room, occupied by a seemingly silly small circular table, she took the seat by the door. Sherlock and I sat opposite each other, with Parma to my left and Aurra to my right. Dengar sat next to Aurra also, with Sherlock on his other side, and Zahn between Sherlock and Parma.

"It isn't very often that I have chance to invite my friends to my home," she glanced at me and smiled "or to make new friends. So I am very glad that you could all attend tonight. Please, if there is anything you want do not hesitate to ask." She raised her glass into the air. "To an exciting and joyous evening."

"To an exciting and joyous evening." We repeated after her, clinking glasses. After that everyone seemed to separate into their own conversations, as few of us as there were. Sherlock, the little git, had decided to talk to Dengar the scarred man, leaving me to awkwardly try and talk to Aurra.

"So, umm... what line of work are you in?" I asked her.

"I suppose you could say I'm a mercenary, of sorts. I do also enjoy racing, although that is more of a hobby. What about you?" I grinned at her creepily, usually when I get sat next to people at weddings and the sort, I end up with the boring person that has no interests and is essentially wasting oxygen. The relief I felt at having found someone I could associate with was comforting.

"I was a mercenary, an army medic really. Now I suppose you'd call me a Consulting Detective's assistant." I smiled at her.

Aurra seemed about to comment when the lights flickered and the room was suddenly plunged into darkness.

"Everybody stay calm." Our hostess announced, the room was silent, after a few moment the lights came back to life and once again we were bathed in the orange glow from them. Parma stood up. "I apologise, I shall go and ask for our lights to be seen to." As she was about to leave the lights flickered off again, this time the room was not silent. There was a loud smash, and a lot of muffled noises. My senses went into overdrive as my eyes tried to adapt to the darkness quicker, I stood up from my chair quickly and felt something heavy slam into my left side, I shouted and went sprawling.

I heard Sherlock jump up from his chair "Nobody move!" He instructed, there was a moment of more muffled sounds before Sherlock was standing over me with an alight candle in his grasp. Aurra was sitting in her chair, looking at my tipped over one with an expression of confusion. The other guests were just as bemused.

"John, are you alright?" Sherlock asked, bending over to help me up.

"Fine." I flustered, taking his hand and getting back on me feet. I pressed my hand into my side, it ached slightly, but I could tell there was no real damage done. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was definitely something terribly wrong. I noticed Sherlock begin to light other candles he must have noticed on display and the room slowly gained some light.

"Ms Violet." Sherlock abruptly uttered, suddenly pivoting on his heel to get a full scan of the room. That's what was missing. _Whom _was missing. Parma Violet. We all quickly looked around the room, but she was gone. One of the huge, glass windows that faced out onto the garden was shattered, the glass littering the floor. There was also a pool of blood near Parma's chair. That was not nearly the worst thing that met our eyes though. A speckled trail of blood led away from the original pool, and there, in the middle of another blood patch, was a severed arm. An unmistakably lilac, mutilated, severed arm. The other guests were on their feet by this point. Aurra had somehow gotten paler, Zhan was retching, and Dengar had his lips pressed tightly together with his brows knitted. Not knowing what to do with themselves, they all remained silent.

"Oh God..." I breathed, taking in the scene. Sherlock gave the room another mental scan before turning to me, apparently unaffected.

"It would seem we have to play Cluedo after all."


End file.
